


reassurances.

by orphan_account



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Cassamore - Freeform, Cruiserweight Championship, Fluff, M/M, post No Mercy 2017, sleepy!cass, this is just. Tooth Rotting Sweetness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 15:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The house is quiet when Enzo steps in the door.





	reassurances.

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO YES ENZO IS,,,,,,,,, A CHAMP?? I'M LIVING
> 
> but also hi! I’ve been trying to write any sort of Cassamore fic for the better part of a year and tHIS one finally worked out! I hope you enjoy, and if you do, you may be interested in my tumblr :) I draw sometimes, post about Enzo and Cass, and also throw in other superstars like Dean Ambrose, Finn Bálor and Shinsuke Nakamura to keep things interesting. here’s the link!
> 
> https://cassamore.tumblr.com
> 
> enjoy, my friend!

The house is quiet when he steps in the door, Kilo and Frank not even bothering to come greet him. Enzo rolls his shoulders, eyes scrunched; Neville gave him a fuckin' _match_ , he is willing to admit that. Sighing as the tension melts slowly from his shoulders, Enzo kicks off his shoes in front of the mat. Toeing his socks off and abandoning them too, he pads off in the direction of the lounge, where Cass will undoubtedly be.

The TV is still running when Enzo enters the room, playing some episode of Ride Along. Cass is conked out on the couch, snoring softly. He’s got a dog on either side of him, breathing in unison with him. Enzo can’t suppress a grin, and he pulls out his phone, snapping a picture of the moment. It’s a side of Cass only he gets to see, the softer, calmer man underneath the giant exterior. He’d kick himself if he didn’t immortalize every moment he possibly could.

Crawling onto the couch, Enzo sets the cruiserweight belt on the side table. Gently, he lifts Cass' arm, snuggling in beside Frank. The dog doesn’t stir, but Cass does, sniffing as he comes back to reality.

"'Zo?" Cass murmurs, voice thick with sleep. Enzo’s heart melts, and he presses a soft kiss to Cass' neck.

"Hey, big guy," Enzo whispers back, words muffled in Cass' skin. He feels Cass turn his head, likely looking at the clock. He makes a small noise of frustration, and Enzo lifts his head, confused. "What’s wrong, Cass?"

"I never got t' see your match," Cass replies, voice still scratchy, but heavy with sadness. "I wanted to, but the pain meds the doc gave me get me all droopy an' tired."

"'S okay, Cass, don’t worry 'bout it," Enzo reassures him, wrapping one of his arms tightly around Cass' torso. He stares down at his boyfriend's leg, propped up on the table with a brace around the knee; he had been so scared during that match. Enzo knew the kayfabe feud between them would be horrible, but he never thought it — _he_ — would knock Cass out of the game until next April.

"I can hear ya thinkin', Enzo," Cass says, interrupting his train of thought by pressing his lips into Enzo’s wild hair, "Wasn’t your fault. Tonight’s not about that." Enzo sighs, turning his head up to look Cass in the eyes.

"Technically speakin', it’s the mornin' now," Enzo replies, smiling with goofily-lidded eyes, "An' I know it ain’t my fault, you just landed funny, but still. Feels like it."

"Well, stop feelin' like it, 'cause it ain’t true." Cass deadpans.

"Tryin' everyday, babe, trust me."

"You’d better be."

They lapse into silence, only for a moment, watching their coworkers flicker by on the TV with barely audible voices. Enzo huffs happily, curling infinitesimally closer to Cass. After a second longer, Cass snorts, peering down at Enzo with humour in his eyes.

"So did'ja win?" He asks, poking Enzo lightly on the shoulder. Enzo chuckles, batting away his hand playfully.

"You already know I did," Enzo says. Cass only shrugs, dimpling at him.

"I don’t see no belt. You didn’t win 'less I see a belt." He taunts, dismissive. Enzo smacks him lightly on the chest, prompting a laugh.

"Lemme go, I’ll grab the fuckin' belt for ya." Enzo grumbles, but there’s no venom in it. Cass raises his arm obediently, allowing Enzo the freedom to move the dog and crawl to the other end of their couch. Gingerly, as if it’s a baby, he sets the Cruiserweight Championship on his shoulder, shuffling on his knees back to where Cass is sitting.

Cass takes a long time to say anything, staring at Enzo with curious blue eyes. His expression is unreadable, and Enzo squirms under the scrutiny, fiddling with the side plate as he tries to gauge Cass' reaction. Eventually, Cass clears his throat, reaching up to brush his fingers across the front plate.

"I like the way that belt looks there." Cass states, voice quiet, yet weighted. Enzo gazes down at the couch, feeling his cheeks flushing slightly.

"But I didn’t even win it honestly," Enzo mutters. Cass reaches up, swiftly taking Enzo by the shoulders and yanking him down into his arms. The belt gets squashed between them, but Cass makes no move to readjust, choosing instead to squeeze his arms around Enzo as tightly as he possibly can.

"Doesn’t matter," Cass responds earnestly, "The only reason ya didn’t get to win that clean is 'cause of Creative. One of these days, you’re gonna get t' win that sucker, or any other belt completely on your own. I _know_ it, 'Zo."

Enzo can’t do anything but grin against Cass' chest, a silent 'thank-you' present in it. Tentatively, he lifts his head, nose brushing along his boyfriend's neck.

"Cass?" He asks.

"Yeah, 'Zo?"

"Y’know what championship I wanna get next?"

"What one, Intercontinental?"

"Nah," Enzo says, pushing back so he can actually look Cass in the eyes, "The Tag Team Championships." Cass' brows furrow, but his mouth twitches at the corners.

"But we aren’t a tag team anymore." Cass says. Enzo smirks deviously, setting the Cruiserweight Championship aside on the couch so he can carefully move to sit in Cass' lap.

"I got an idea, I’m gonna run it past Hunter," Enzo explains. "When you come back, you’re gonna swoop in an' save my ass while I’m gettin' a beat down by some cheecharoo. The crowd goes ballistic, you an' I are back together, an' Enzo an' Big Cass ride off into the sunset." Cass chuckles, letting his hands drift down to rest on Enzo’s hips.

"How’re ya gonna explain me suddenly rejoinin' ya?" He prods. Enzo bites his lip, lost in thought.

"I... haven’t gotten that far yet. It’s a work in progress!" Enzo says with finality. Cass laughs again, tracing his fingers along the patch of leopard print tattoo that’s visible, just above Enzo’s waistband.

"We can sort out the kinks later, we still got a while until I’m allowed back in the ring." Cass says. Enzo pouts his lip out, but grins in spite of himself afterward.

"I know. An' it sucks, but you’re gonna need'a be a hundred percent if you’re gonna be runnin' down to the ring to save my sorry ass." Enzo teases. Cass sneers at him playfully, pushing him in closer by his back.

"Don’t focus on the future too much, there, Mr. Cruiserweight Champion," Cass warns, "You got so much happenin' right now, the tag team ain’t the focus." Enzo just rolls his eyes as he leans in, face only inches away from Cass'.

"I know, Cass, but I can’t help it." He says, framing Cass’ face in his hands. Enzo touches their foreheads together, smiling softly at the feeling of his boyfriend’s eyelashes fluttering against his own cheeks. He slowly slots their lips together, chaste and coy. Cass hums into it, hands linking at Enzo's lower back. After a moment, they break apart, Enzo's face split into a wide grin.

"How am I supposed to focus on what’s happening to me right now when _you’re_ always on my mind?"

Cass can’t up with an answer fast enough, so Enzo just kisses him again. It’s not like Cass is arguing.

///////


End file.
